


The Gang Gets Corona

by Somedegenerateleftist



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Coronavirus, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:15:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23552896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedegenerateleftist/pseuds/Somedegenerateleftist
Summary: When the others get sick, the communist takes care of the household
Relationships: leftist unity?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	The Gang Gets Corona

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t expect to write fluff about political extremists, but here it is.

The extremists were all at breakfast one morning. The Nazi was sipping at a cup of black coffee, scrolling through breitbart news on his phone, the ancap was vehemently concentrated on his phone, looking concerned, as he sipped coffee, and the leftists were eating pancakes that commie had made. It was a pretty normal morning, however, Commie noticed that Ancom was quieter than usual, sinking into quir hoodie rather than starting fights.

“Is everything alright, Comrade?” 

The anarchist’s voice came out hoarse, 

“I’m fine Tankie, don’t-” they were cut off by a coughing attack.

“Ancom, do you need some cocaine for that cough? I just got a shipment in yesterday”

“Honestly, I hope he’s got coronavirus - it’ll only be killing off the weak” 

Ancom rolled quir eyes, just focusing on taking some deep breaths. Qui was used to getting shit from the fascist. 

“Anarkiddy, shouldn’t you be quarenteening? We must all take responsibilities for not getting whole community -” 

The anarchist cut him off “I have a right to free mov- cough- free movement, Tankie, and I’m not just gonna let fascists be because of some cold.” With that qui took their baseball bat and left to bash the fash. 

That night qui came home feeling exhausted - between spray painting over fascist graffiti and running from the cops, qui had had a long day - not to mention this damn cold. Quis throat hurt, and qui was practically sweating through quir hoodie. Qui collapsed onto quir bed, relieved to finally relax, before realizing that falling asleep without taking something was going to be impossible. Qui groaned, struggling to lift quir body out of bed, and went to go get something. Right as qui was rolling up a joint, there was a knock at quir bedroom door. Qui ignored it, not wanting to deal with any of the other extremists right this moment. The door opened, and in stepped Tankie. 

He was wearing a large, faded red shirt with a hammer and sickle on it, some plain grey sweatpants, and, unlike usual, no ushanka. The casual outfit contrasted with, well, him. Even dressed down and with messy hair, he still looked put together and strong. 

“Comrade, are you feeling any better? You really shouldn’t have gone out with that cold of yours - I worry.” 

“I’m fine, tankie” qui said.

Commie stepped closer, looking concernedly at his fellow leftist. The bags under ancom’s eyes were darker than usual, and quir skin was pale and goosebumped. 

“Are you sure? You do not look so good. Do you have temperature?”

Before ancom could protest that qui’d be fine, commie was next to quem, with a hand on quir forehead. Ancom blushed at the contact - the extremists spent far more time arguing than getting along - but qui definitely did not mind the physical contact - qui’d always had a bit of a soft spot for the communist.

“You’re burning up. You need to rest” 

Commie surprised quem then, scooping them effortlessly into his arms, and then gently laying quem in bed. He leaned over them, and gently pressed his lips to their burning forehead. He somewhat abruptly stood up, and quickly said

“I will get supplies.” 

Commie left ancom on the bed, and qui felt relieved to finally lay down, and more than a little flustered about the kiss. When he returned, he had a large red blanket draped over his shoulder, a large mug of tea in one hand, and a glass of ice water in the other. He pushed aside the bags of weed on ancom’s nightstand, and set the beverages down before throwing the blanket over quem. He leaned over them, and gently tucked the blanket under the reclined anarchist. 

Qui leaned over and took the tea into quir hand. It was pleasantly hot, and when qui took a small sip, qui noticed that the communist had even put honey in. How sweet. Qui breathed out, feeling the warm air in quir face.

“Hey Tankie?”

“Da, Anarkiddy?” 

“Thanks. I, uh, really appreciate the tea and all that.” 

The statist walked over and lightly ruffled the anarchist’s hair. Ancom leaned into his hand, not wanting him to leave. When the anarchist reached up to pull him into bed he let himself fall in with quem, even though qui was far weaker than him. He put his arm around quem, noticing how warm qui was. 

Qui were still burning up, right. Commie pulled out a bottle of nyquil and gave it to quem. Qui opened it up, downed it like a shot, and set it on the nightstand. Commie stifled a laugh; of course that was how the anarchist took quir medicine. He leaned back, and qui quickly nuzzled quir face into his chest.

He laid there as the anarchist drifted to sleep, holding quem. While he had been planning on getting rid of quir non-medicinal drugs while qui were asleep, he couldn't bring himself to let go of his anarkiddy. He smiled down at them as they snored softly, and let himself drift off to sleep as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I want the state to take care of me while sick uwu this has been propaganda for universal healthcare and measures for virus control by a socialist state uwu
> 
> Also, writing fluff is haaaaaarrrrd


End file.
